His name was Victor Adam
by burbankstorylady
Summary: This is something I started writing a long time ago. It is about Adam Newman from when he first learned that he was Victor's son. It is based loosely on the earliest scenes of "Adam" (then known as Vic) and Hope and Victor, when the role was portrayed by Chris Engen. It explores the Adam that maybe never had a chance? Adam Interrupted? Ongoing, short chapters just like the show.
1. Chapter 1

Vic Wilson knew one thing. He never at any time wished to return to Kansas. He chuckled whenever he caught a glimpse of something related to The Wizard of Oz.

He was no Dorothy, that was for sure. Never at any time did he ever say, 'There's no place like home.' In fact, if it wasn't for his mother, Hope Adams Wilson, he would never go back. He often tried to convince his mother to join him in the northeast. "We could sell the farm and use it to buy something small and cozy, in New Jersey or somewhere. I'll work in the city. They love me at the bank. I'm sure I'll be promoted soon. I will take care of you." But Hope was having none of it.

"I don't want my son taking care of me," she'd say with her stoic grin. Vic would just shake his head in despair. He worried about her all the time. He knew she had lots of help from Aunt Destiny and Aunt Destiny's husband, Uncle Gary, and their enormous brood. They lived on the neighboring farm and often talked about wanting to absorb Hope's farm into theirs, in order to help out even more. But Hope refused, never telling anyone why she was so adamant to keep the farm in her name. Being blind, she had to rely on her sister's family for much of the work, but she went on doing whatever she could: caring for the chickens and milking the cows. She used to love cleaning the pig sty too (Vic thought she was crazy!) but lately that was proving too difficult. Hope felt exhausted for the first time in her life. Vic watched her fading away. She seemed to have lost another five pounds every time he saw her and she was losing color at an equally alarming pace.

"Come on, Mom," he would say during his holiday visits to the farm. "You can bring the chickens to New Jersey. You will have your gardening. Let me help you."

That stoic grin again. Mixed with knowingness. "My home is here, Vic. If you want to help me, you can move here and help me here. This is your home too."

This always made Vic angry. He suppressed it because he did not want to hurt his mom, but it was hard. "Mom, you know farm life isn't for me. It never was."

"I know," she would say with a curious mix of amusement and regret. "For the son of a man who died in a tractor accident, you do fall far from the tree."

One day at Christmas, as they were having this conversation (again) he lamented. "I hardly remember Cliff anymore. It's weird. I can't even remember his face anymore. If it wasn't for the pictures around the house, I don't think I'd be able to picture his face."

"He adored you. He was so protective of you."

"I remember him holding me. I remember his hands. Always so dirty."

Hope laughed. It was nice to hear her laugh again, even though she started coughing because of it. Vic jumped up from the kitchen table and fetched her a glass of water.

"Thank you," she said when she was finished drinking. "I do remember so well those dirty hands. Obviously, I couldn't see the dirt, but the smell was horrid! Manure!"

Vic laughed. "I remember. God. I don't understand people romanticizing farm life."

Suddenly Hope became serious. "Vic, there's something you should know. Cliff didn't want me to tell you, but my gut is telling me it is time. I won't be around forever."

"Mom, no-" He didn't like when she brought up the fact of her mortality and his aloneness in the world. It was depressing. He could not imagine the world without her. It was too awful to contemplate.

"Vic, I know you don't like talking about it, but we can't avoid it forever. There are some things I need to tell you. You need to know." She seemed to be trying to convince herself more than him. "Yes. It is time. You have to know."

Vic sat back in his chair and sighed. "Mom, you have said so many times, 'there is something I need to tell you, it's time,' and you never do. What is it? The big, deep, dark secret? Are you going to tell me who my long lost father is?"

Hope's frown deepened. "Why would you say that? Cliff is your father."

"I know, Mom," said Vic, surprised by her reaction. "I was kidding."

Hope forced herself to smile, but her discomfort was evident to Vic. "I'm tired, son. I need to rest."

"What about that thing you need to tell me?"

"We'll talk later, sweetie."

It always ended somewhat like that. She had something vital to tell him and then she lost the courage.

Vic returned to Manhattan and his cubbyhole at Keller-Stuart. He always worked late in his cubbyhole on the 70th floor, lights going out left and right, but his light shining on. What was the use going home? His 'home' was a two-bedroom apartment in Queens where his roommate was likely to be sitting on the couch playing video games?

Sometimes, in his cubbyhole, he'd get a text from his best friend ('with benefits') Skye Lockhart, asking him if he'd like to meet her at their favorite East Village bar. Tonight, there was a text from Skye but she was also still at work- she worked for a hedge fund with an office way uptown. "Let's do lunch tomorrow," the text read. "Want to discuss new opportunity." Which was cut-throat-city code for want to discuss what you got going on so I can get in on that action too.

The truth was, however, that Vic did not have anything going on. His career path as a stockbroker was starting to feel like a dead end. He had gone to Northwestern and then Harvard for his MBA with such big dreams. Graduating from Harvard Business School second in his class, after Skye, he accepted a promising entry-level position at Keller Stuart, thinking he would rise quickly and make his first million and perhaps... oh who knows? Buy a few homes? Take care of his mother? Marry a Wall Street princess? Retire with a golden parachute that would never touch the ground?

How could he, with a blind mother in Kansas to worry about, keep going like this? Vic found himself increasingly wondering if New York City was the wrong place to try to be a big fish. He glanced down at the hardcover book on his desk: Victor Newman's latest bestseller. There was 'The Mustache' beaming up at him from the back cover photo. Vic could not explain it but he felt that he understood something about Victor Newman.

There was the shared name, yes. In a way, Vic felt that he too, like the older Victor, was an orphan. Even though he still had his mother, she was blind and increasingly failing in health. Victor Newman was someone Vic looked up to as a true role model. The old man had been born with nothing, no one to help him, no material advantage, but with sheer passion and ambition, had become a Titan of the universe. This was how Vic felt he wanted his life to move. Who but himself would get him out of his cubbyhole? Who but himself would get him into the penthouse?

"Vic?"

"Mom?" Vic was standing in the kitchenette of his apartment, waiting for pop tarts to pop out of the toaster, when he answered the phone call.

"Vic, how are you?"

"I'm great, Mom. How are you?"

"Oh, honey, I'm fine." (She did not sound 'fine' to Vic, not remotely 'fine.')

The pop tarts were ready. He ignored them. He was not hungry anymore.

"You don't sound fine," he found himself saying.

"Honey, I am fine, but I need you to come out here as soon as possible. I need to tell you so many things. But not on the phone. I want to see your face. I need to see you, honey. Can you come soon?"

"I can come today."

"You don't have to work?"

"It's Saturday."

She laughed. But it was not 'her' laugh. It was not the laugh he knew. That was a delightful sound. This was anything but delightful. It was horrible to hear her attempt such a weak laugh, one so devoid of humor. It was the saddest laughter he had ever heard.

Vic stepped into the house calling for her. "Mom!" he called several times into a dark, seemingly empty house. He checked every room, even closets. You never knew, she might have gone into the storage under the stairs, for instance, looking for something, tripped and fell and hit her head and lay unconscious in a pool of blood... But no. She wasn't in there, nor in the basement. He found her upstairs in bed, thin and pale and attempting a brave loving smile for him.

"Vic," she said in a low, faltering voice. "My boy."

He rushed to her side and kissed her and rubbed her arms. "Mom, how are you?" He felt stupid for asking it, knowing full well that she was sick. He knew as well that it was no stomach flu that had her looking like this, lying in bed, barely able to speak above a whisper.

She looked toward the window and he followed her look.

For the first time, he noticed a strange man, oddly familiar, standing by the window. The man's arms were crossed, and he seemed nervous, but he had the trace of a smile on his face. Vic had a wild thought that he was Victor Newman, but quickly pushed the thought from his mind. Why would Victor Newman be standing in his mother's bedroom?

"Victor," Hope said, addressing the strange man and trying to smile. Then she looked at her son. "You know who this is, honey?"

Vic and Victor made eye contact.

"This is Victor Newman. He is your father."

"This doesn't make any sense. My father is dead."

"Yes, honey. Cliff Wilson is dead. You knew him as your father and he loved you like his son, but he was not your biological father. Victor is."

Vic didn't believe it at first. It was too weird. It was crazy. To find out at the age of 27 that his father was not really his father, and moreover, the "biological father" was the internationally renowned tycoon Victor Newman, whose book sat on Vic's desk back at Keller-Stuart Wealth Management!

"Why are you telling me this? Why are you telling me this now?" He braved a glance up at Mr. Newman. The business giant was looking down at him, a mixture of emotions in his eyes. Sadness? Regret? Pain? Anticipation? Eagerness? Hopefulness? Vic couldn't pinpoint it, but he felt a rush of all those things when he made eye contact with the old man.

"I don't want you to be alone," Hope said.

"I won't be," Vic said, snapping his attention back to his mother. "Neither will you. We have each other."


	2. Chapter 2

Vic's mother passed away. Relatively comfortably because, having come clean and finally united the father and son, she was ready and willing to go. She went knowing that Vic would now have his father in his life.

As for Vic, he could barely wrap it around his head that Victor Newman was his biological father. He instinctively closed his heart and resisted Victor's attempts to bond with him. He did not like the way the old man looked at him. He had so many questions, like why had Victor stayed away from them all those years. Why was the old man so devoted to his other family, while he had been perfectly OK with never reaching out to the son growing up in Kansas? And most critically, why did he seem so desirous to care _now_? Vic couldn't help suspecting that the old man had an agenda. First of all, he kept asking Vic about work in New York and, in one of their first face-to-face, just-the-two-of-them conversations, he even offered Vic a position as Newman Enterprises.

"You don't even know me and you're offering me a job at your company?"

"Newman is a family business. You're family."

"I wasn't family enough to even deserve a visit or a phone call but now that I'm almost 30 years old, you're extending an offer to join the family business?"

"It was your mother's wish."

"To keep us apart? To let another man raise your son? No offense, but if I had a son, nothing, not even the mother herself, could keep me from being part of his life."

And that was when Vic told Victor flat out that he rejected his offer. He was not a Newman and he already had a job. After a very small, intimate funeral, he went back to New York and resumed his workaholic ways. He threw himself into the work as never before. It was all work and no play, not even a bar hop session with Skye Lockhart.

Vic never read magazines. Not even something like Forbes or The Economist. He had enough to read in his work without wasting time with watered-down, made-for-the-masses economic speculation. However, one night, while waiting in line at CVS, he saw Victor Newman on the cover of Forbes and his curiosity got the better of him. The article talked in some depth about Victor's past, transition from Christian Miller to Victor "New Man," his many marriages (it even mentioned Hope by name, but said nothing about Vic), and how the old man had single-handedly built Newman Enterprises from "nothing." Before his mother's death, and therefore, pre-dating his knowledge that he himself had been born a Newman, the family details in the article would not have interested him. He'd have been solely interested in the story of the great man building a great company. But now…. Vic was fascinated by every detail. He read the authorized quotes from Victor's wife Nikki and their two adult children, Nicholas and Victoria, and he was filled with feelings he'd never felt before. Jealousy? Worse, he felt inadequate and angry. He had never been an angry person and he had certainly never felt inadequate in his life.

Alone in his apartment one night, his roommate having gone out to buy a new game to sit on the couch and play, he cracked open a beer and settled in for a night of mindless TV watching. A soccer game. Brazil versus some European country. Croatia or something. Skye came over, dressed to the nines, and laughed at him for being so pathetic. Then she saw the Forbes magazine on the coffee table. She picked it up while Vic watched the game. Skye got bored with the article quickly and tossed it onto the table. "That Victor Newman has too much money and time on his hands," she scoffed while retrieving a beer from the fridge. "I guess when you're living in Wisconsin, there isn't much for a tycoon to do but marry the same circle of women over and over again and have kids."

The word "kids" snapped Vic out of his zombie state. "Yeah, no kidding," he said, falling after just a brief moment of sadness, into her flow of mockery. "I bet they're spoiled brats."

"Oh no doubt!" Skye agreed. "Never had to work a day in their lives or earn anything. I almost feel sorry for them."

For some reason, Vic had not informed Skye of the fact that he himself was a Newman spawn. Part of him wanted to, but the other part felt a little embarrassed. And something else. Afraid even. Afraid that if he told Skye that Victor Newman was his father, she might push him to do something crazy, like go to Genoa City and start some drama. That was the kind of thing Skye would undoubtedly have done if it was her who had found out she was the long-lost spawn of an internationally famous conglomerate CEO.

Over the next couple of days, Vic juggled his crazy worklife (no sleep for Wall Street stockbrokers) with daydreams (so unlike him) of paying a visit to _dear old dad_ in Genoa City. He felt increasingly curious about his birth city. It wasn't long before he made an impulsive decision (also, very unlike him) to take a leave of absence and just go. He bought the plane ticket and booked a rental car and hotel room. He told his roommate and Skye that he was going to Kansas to finalize the sale of the farm, but really, he was going to the totally strange place where he had been born.


	3. Chapter 3

By the time Vic settled into his room at the Genoa City Motor Arms Motel, it was late on Sunday night, and he had resolved on making his appearance before Victor Newman, at Newman Enterprises, on the following morning. He was even almost resolved to accept Victor's job offer. During his flight, he had worked on a pros and cons of accepting it. The biggest con was that it would put him under the control of a very powerful, ruthless person whom he barely knew. However, he couldn't figure out how his current career path was any less risky. Did he really have anything to lose in going to work for his biological father? Newman Enterprises was an internationally renowned company. Just being able to put it on his resume would be a great career move, and besides, nothing would tie him to it permanently. Most of all, he just saw it as an opportunity to know more about the father he never knew until recently and the origin of his own existence. As he sat in the seedy motel room, he also thought about his name. He was Victor Adam Wilson, always known by others and thinking of himself as Vic. It was impossible now to think of that without realizing that he had been named Victor Newman, and that just felt….. _weird_. The name Adam came from his mother, whose maiden name was Adams. Vic began now to think for the first time in his life of going by Adam instead of Vic. Especially in Genoa City, it made sense to go by Adam Wilson, given that in this town, it was unlikely that he could ever escape the shadow of Victor Newman.

He showed up at Newman Enterprises wearing his best suit, which he had packed so carefully for the trip from New York. The closer he came to Victor's CEO office, the sillier he felt. The feeling as he approached the desk of his father's secretary can only be described as butterflies in the stomach. Actually, he felt like he did not even have a stomach as he opened his mouth to speak.

"My name is Vic Wilson. I came for a meeting with Mr. Newman."

She smiled sweetly. "Do you have an appointment?"

"No," he said. "Can you just tell him that I'm here?"

"Sure," she said. She picked up the phone and announced to her boss that a Vic Wilson was waiting to see him. The response from the other end of the line surprised her. She hung up the phone. "Go on, he wants to see you right away."

"Well, I'll be damned," came the great man's voice as Vic stepped into the office.

"Hello, sir," Vic said nervously but with forced confidence. He looked directly at Newman, who approached him with arms outstretched. Vic extended his arm as for a handshake, thus putting a little distance between them and preventing the hug that was obviously Victor's intention. Victor let it pass and they shook hands.

"It's good to see you. I have to admit, when we said goodbye in Kansas, I wasn't sure if you would come." Victor walked to the drink cart. "Can I offer you something? Water or something stronger?"

"Water is fine," said Vic.

Victor returned to his desk with a water for Vic and a scotch for himself. "Well, what brings you here? Curiosity or dare I say interest in my offer?"

"Both," said Vic. "I am interested in the offer."

"Why the change of heart?"

Vic hesitated and his hesitation prompted Victor to add: "Don't get me wrong. I asked you to come work at Newman because I want my family involved in the company. Newman is a family company and my children are always welcome to work here."

"I want to make something clear," Vic said as he took a seat opposite Victor. He took a quick sip of water and then proceeded. "I'm not here as your son."

Victor gave him a penetrating stare, his head bent forward, and his eyes hooded. "You are my son, whether you want to accept it or not. I think you will find that in Genoa City, you won't find it easy to hide from that fact."

"I understand that," Vic conceded. "I would just prefer to keep it professional. For instance, I am keeping the name of Wilson, the man who raised me and was my father in all the ways that matter."

"Cliff Wilson was a good man," acknowledged Victor.

"And I'd like to be known by my middle name from here on out. Adam Wilson."

As Victor considered his son's words, he lifted his chin and continued to study the young man closely. "Is that right?"

"Yes. I think Genoa City may not have room for another Victor."

The old man couldn't help smiling at this. "That may be. Adam Wilson it is. I gather that this all means you accept my job offer?"

"It does," said 'Adam.' "Under one condition."

Victor waited in silence.

"I'm not going to call you 'dad' or anything. I'd like to keep it lowkey, the fact that you are my biological father. And I don't want any special treatment."

Victor smirked. "You want to be regarded for your own merits."

"Exactly," said Adam. "I don't want anyone to be able to say that I'm only here because of nepotism."

"Why are you here?"

"I'm here because I graduated second in my class from Harvard Business School. I'm one of the best and brightest among young business minds to recently graduate from the most prestigious MBA program in the world. Newman offers a lot of opportunities and challenges for me."

Victor was smiling broader than ever now. "I'm convinced. You're hired." They shook hands across the desk.

"Where are you staying?"

"Eh… A motel, the Motor Arms? The first one I saw on the road from the airport."

Victor shook his head. "No, you must stay at the ranch."

Adam resisted. "That seems like special treatment to me."

"Well, at least let me recommend better lodgings than the Motor Arms. You should stay at the Athletic Club. And give them my name. They will treat you very well."

Adam thanked him for the recommendation. After he was gone, Victor picked up the phone and dialed the number for the Genoa City Athletic Club.

"Yes, hello, Victor Newman speaking. There's a young man, a new employee of mine, on his way there. I want you to provide the best suite you have to him, and send me the bill. Give him anything he wants and treat him like royalty. OK? Thank you…. And please, don't tell him you're sending me the bills. Just let him think that he's paying."


	4. Chapter 4

Adam found everything in Genoa City to be much more daunting and full of surprises than he'd anticipated. He had come to this town with a lot of prejudice about midwestern suburbia. He never expected to meet with such a cosmopolitan, worldly-wise set of people as those who lunched and dined at the Athletic Club and attended board meetings at the town's corporate trifecta - - Norman Enterprises, Chancellor Industries, and Jabot Cosmetics. He found himself feeling dazed at the fact that this was the world to which he had been born. Were it not for his mother taking him away to Kansas and changing his surname, he, as Victor Adam Newman, would have been just another one of Genoa City's spoiled trust fund babies. As it was, he now observed his estranged half-sister and half-brother with a mixture of disgust, envy, and fascination. Victoria was especially interesting to him. Nick was kind to Adam, even sympathetic, and it struck Adam that Nick even pitied him. Nick seemed to be trying to distance himself from the Newman legacy and from Victor's clutches, while Adam was just getting started... Victoria, on the other hand, struck Adam as a female version of the old man himself. She relished her position at Newman Enterprises. She had power and wanted more. With Victoria, Adam knew he could never be really friendly. They were too much alike. They wanted the same thing, to be daddy's right hand.

Victor put Adam to work right away in the review of all of Newman's accounts. Adam enjoyed this work. He knew it there was no better way to get acquainted with the corporation than to delve in the deep end of its contracts. Adam found a lot of surprises. For one thing, he had expected to find that Newman's best known brand, Beauty of Nature, Victoria's brainchild, was the most profitable in the entire conglomerate. Not so, it turned out. Beauty of Nature was saddled with debt. The entire company was in the red. There hadn't been a hit product in years. Victoria had a vision of "going green" and basing all of its manufacturing on alternative sources of energy. But the goal of converting its laboratories to solar power seemed far off indeed, given that the existing leases were far beyond its financial means. Adam wanted to advise his father that the best course of action was simply to cut the losses: break up the company and sell the scraps. They might barely break even and they'd be free to invest in other more profitable branches of the conglomerate.

Easier said than done. How could Adam do it without declaring an all-out war on a sibling he had only just become aware of, let alone met? Did Adam really want to go to war with Victoria Newman?

No. Of course not. That would be insane. Besides, how could be sure his father would even have his back? Victoria was the one Victor had raised. Adam was just the long-lost son. No matter that Adam was the Harvard-educated Newman. Victoria was the apple of Victor's eye. If Adam were to go to Victor now and recommend cutting the branch of Beauty of Nature, he'd likely be expelled from the family and run out of town faster than he could say "father."

No. Better keep his mouth shut and hope the company could somehow, miraculously start turning a profit. Maybe Victoria's new idea for a line of no-animal-testing, all-organic facial cream would pan out and become the saving grace.

With these kind of thoughts, Adam worked out in the gym at the athletic club every night. It was here that he first met Heather Stevens, the corporate lawyer for Jabot Cosmetics. He didn't know why he just introduced himself to her as Adam Wilson, not mentioning who his father was. All he knew was that he wasn't quite used to being Victor Newman's son and he didn't know how people would react to him in that capacity. So he started having after-work drinks with Heather and just pretending he had simply come out of Harvard Business School to work for the famous, legendary, great Victor Newman, no relation.

Such a secret can't hold for long in an insular place like Genoa City. A corporate settlement meeting presided over by Heather and attended by the father and son, at which Victor proudly referred to Adam as his son, blasted the fact out of the bag. Heather was shocked, but after hearing Adam's honest explanation, she could not stay angry. Heather also knew firsthand what it was like to discover a father (in her case, Genoa City's leading private investigator Paul Williams) as an adult. Adam and Heather enjoyed only a short time in their relationship before it became known to Victor. Victor had very personal reasons for disliking his long lost and found son's choice of girlfriend.


	5. Chapter 5

One night after work, Heather and Adam played "Truth or Drink" at one of the less visible tables of the Athletic Club. Tucked away in a corner, they sat on plushy armchairs and asked each other questions. The game worked like this: Answer the question or take a drink. Heather got way more drunk than Adam because, it turned out, Adam was much more forthcoming with the "truth." At this point in his life, there wasn't a whole lot to hide or be ashamed of. Heather had been living and working in this crazy town much longer than he had. She was slightly older. It seemed she had a few more skeletons. The one thing she did come forth about was the question of why Victor Newman hated her so much.

"I was involved in the prosecution of the Ji Min Kim murder case," she confessed after Adam asked her just that. "Victor was charged and I went after him with a vengeance. I was convinced he was guilty."

Adam was shocked, having no idea that his father had actually been a murder suspect. "Was he?"

Heather shrugged. "Apparently not. Anyway, the whole thing was disastrous and awful and that's why I got out of criminal law. One thing I've learned in this town, do not cross Victor Newman. He never forgets and he never forgives." Heather took a drink even though she didn't *have* to per the rules.

Adam called a cab for Heather, being too drunk to drive her home himself and she was much drunker than he, so obviously not in a state to drive herself. He went up to his room and poured himself a Scotch before sinking down on the couch, all while loosening his tie and removing his belt so he could relax.

 _Do not cross Victor Newman. He never forgets and he never forgives._

Adam and Victor had been getting along very well so far. Every time Adam felt Victor looking at him, he could feel the old man's pride and, to Adam's annoyance, it felt good. Adam hated that he was beginning to be woven into Victor's web, to feel that he was really his son, and even to feel a sense of filial loyalty. He came to Genoa City hoping to keep an arm's length between himself and Victor, to maintain some control and not become emotionally entangled in the spell of Victor Newman. He failed completely. Pathetically. He knew now that he was very much emotionally entangled with Victor Newman. He still called him Victor, not Dad, and that was something, but Adam knew he was only kidding himself. Calling his father Victor was only a last ditch effort to keep the inevitable from happening. Every day that went by, Adam became more and more Victor's son. It was impossible not to begin to feel something like filial love when Victor kept praising him and inviting him to the ranch and telling him how sound his "business instincts" were. And it was just the two of them, really. Victor and Nick weren't getting along just then. Victoria was busy, besides with work, with her husband and baby. It was like this time had been set aside just for Victor and Adam, and they were in some sort of bubble. They argued. Mostly about Beauty of Nature, Adam having finally confessed his concerns about the company. Victor was adamant in his defense of Victoria, however; no surprise to Adam, but it irked him all the same. It fueled what had already taken root: a budding jealousy for Victoria, the apple of their father's eye, the golden child.

What would happen to this great relationship developing between father and son if the father found out the son was dating the woman who prosecuted him for murder? Adam had to laugh at the absurdity of it. Heather was just doing her job at the time. Surely Victor was taking it too personally? Then again, Adam was pretty sure if he was ever prosecuted for murder, he would never forget or forgive the people doing the prosecuting, even if it was their damn jobs. This was a fairly small town; secrets never stayed secret for long. Everyone already knew Adam to be Victor's long lost child. Jack Abbott even took to calling Adam "Junior." Adam liked Jack Abbott. He couldn't help admiring this man who was brave enough to stand up to the great Victor Newman. And like everyone else, Jack said very nice things and had fond memories of Adam's mother. It surprised Adam, but even Nikki Newman, Nick and Victoria's mother, spoke sweetly about Hope. Adam always listened to Nikki closely, as if trying to detect some hint of resentment toward a former rival for Victor's affections. He felt there must have been a strong reason behind his mother's complete abandonment of Genoa City. A person doesn't just sweep away with child, taking the child away from its father and legacy, unless there is something to drive it. So as nice as everyone was, Adam just couldn't believe them or trust them. They were all hiding something. They were all pretending.


	6. Chapter 6

Adam and Heather were laughing together over a private joke when they entered the Athletic Club and Heather was still laughing when Adam saw a sight to make his insides freeze. Jack Abbott and Skye Lockhart were also laughing and seeming to be having the time of their lives at the bar. Heather quickly picked up on his unease and following his gaze. She rolled her eyes. "I guess that's Jack Abbott's latest conquest," she said derisively.

Skye felt him staring at her and when their eyes met, she broke out into a huge grin. "Vic!"

"Junior, what a nice surprise," said Jack. "Skye herewas just telling me she's the only Harvard Business School grad with better brains than you."

"Haha," scoffed Adam, not feeling very amused. "She likes to remind me of that fact. And everyone else too. Skye, this is Heather Stevens; Heather, Skye Lockhart. My roommate in our Harvard days and the bane of my existence on Wall Street."

"Hello, Heather," said Skye, shooting questioning looks at Adam. Skye had never been a one-guy-one-girl kind of lover. She liked the "friends with benefits" status she had going on with Adam. She just never imagined Adam would date someone so... so... much like a suburban former high school cheerleader, the kind of person who, when she was little, probably had Hello Kitty shit plastered all over her bedroom.

Heather was definitely threatened by Skye from the get-go. Skye was intimidating AF. Gorgeous and feminine but masculine at the same time, radiating ambition and fire, ready to burn the world and watch the embers from above! She was the kind of woman who easily got the raptured attention and camaraderie of Jack Abbott. She was the equal, at the very least, maybe even superior of Adam Wilson Newman. Heather was a successful lawyer, no wallflower, but Skye was something else. Practically Napoleonic. Not short, not insecure, not like that, none of the things the petty would say about Napoleon. Skye was the conquistador. Heather hoped for nothing but to stay out of the line of attack.

Jack was speaking. Something about Skye's investment venture. A hedge fund or something. Neither Adam nor Heather heard any of it. Adam's head was spinning. How much did Skye know? He had not told her anything about being Victor Newman's son. Yet here she was. He should have known she would find out for herself. Skye knew him very well. She could read his face and of course she knew, when he left New York, that something big was up. It was just like her to go fishing for the big mystery. She loved a treasure hunt.

"Well, I have a dinner date," Jack said, standing up from the bar and picking up his coat. "We'll talk soon, Skye. Junior." He nodded to Adam.

"It was fascinating to meet you, Mr. Abbott," Skye said. "Fascinating and enlightening," she added suggestively.

Jack walked away mesmerized.

"So, Skye," said Adam. "What are you doing here?"

"Oh, I don't know, I was curious about this town," said Skye. "I saw your plane ticket before you left so I knew you were lying when you said you were going to settle things at the farm. I'm also curious as to why Jack calls you Junior and other people in this town call you Adam. I know it's your middle name, but why the sudden unwillingness to go by Vic? I suppose it's too much like the name of your new boss, Victor Newman?"

"Something like that," said Adam. "So that's why you're here? Just curious?"

"Something like that," said Skye with a wink and half-smile that revealed the dimple in her cheek.


	7. Chapter 7

"What the hell, Vic?" Skye was both scolding and teasing him as she followed him into his suite, Heather having excused herself to make a dinner date with her dad, Paul Williams. "You find out you're a Newman, change your name, and start dating Kate Middleton?"

"Her name is Heather, not Kate, and she's a successful lawyer, not some snotty royal, and how in hell did you even find out about me being Victor Newman's son?"

"Whatever, you act like it was hard to figure out or something. You come to Genoa City, go to work at Newman and start going by Adam. I mean, after I really thought about it, I realized you kind of look like Victor Newman. I'm surprised I never noticed it before." She tossed her purse on the couch and walked to the minibar. "What's your poison these days?"

"I haven't changed everything about myself. Whatever you're having, as if I don't know it will be a Rusty Nail, make one for me too."

"Yes, sir. I see you've imbibed Dad's dictatorial ways."

"What are you doing here, Skye?" Adam sat on the couch and started relaxing his attire (untying shoes, loosening tie, rolling up sleeves, etc.)

"I'm fishing for investors, _Adam_. For my new hedge fund. The Newman Fund."

"The _Newman_ Fund? Are you claiming to be Victor's long lost daughter?"

Skye looked intrigued. "Why? Does he have one of those I can claim to be? Like Anastasia?" She was teasing, of course. Skye was no imbecile. "Seriously, though," she continued, bringing their drinks over to the couch. "It being the Newman Fund is exactly why I need you on board."

"Forget it," said Adam. "I don't need the drama. My sister already suspects I have nefarious intentions to leach off the family name."

"Who? Victoria Newman?" Skye scoffed. "Don't worry about her. Her name is mud on Wall Street because that baby of hers, Beauty of Nature, is ass deep in debt and hemorrhaging value."

"Yeah, maybe, but she's still the apple of Victor's eye."

"Awe, that's sweet. You're worried about Daddy's approval."

"No, I'm concerned about my future. Newman Enterprises is a sure thing. Your hedge fund is a wild card, as all hedge funds are, really."

"Suit yourself, Junior. Jack Abbott is interested."

Adam chuckled. "Jack would love to be your top investor. That would really stick it to Victor, the mustache, as he calls him, being the top investor of something called the Newman Fund. So tell me more. What are you hedging on?"

"Whatelse?" Skye shrugged nonchalantly. "Fashion. Cosmetics. Maybe even some pharmaceuticals." She cocked an eyebrow in his direction. "I might even pitch it to Victoria Newman. She could use the bailout and you know me, baby, I'm always turned on by high risk ventures."

"Ha! She's got too much pride. You have a portfolio?"

"Sure do. Check your email. I sent it to you."

Skye set her glass down and scooted over to Adam. She climbed on him, straddling him, and started kissing him hard on the lips (immediately going for tongue) while grinding her body roughly against his. He put his hands on her hips and kissed her back for a bit, but after several minutes, he put her down and got to his feet. "Sorry, Skye. I'm with Heather."

Skye wasn't insulted. She took it in stride. "All right. I get it. You're playing Ken to her Barbie. When you get bored, let me know. I'm staying down the hall. I'll see you around, Junior." Winking and grinning, she left him alone.


End file.
